Civil Penalty Pt. 01-02

I pushed back hard on why they were making me available sexually for three hours a day, six days a week. That was not how I expected a company that knew I was valuable to treat me; I was, after all, their goose that laid the golden egg. How did they expect me to do my job and retain any pride?

Eamon refused to consider cutting it back, "Beth, at six days a week, that's only 150 days, and we have over 1,000 employees who may want to enjoy the novelty of a corporate pleasure slut. It wouldn't be fair to cut it back any further.

To my horror, a flush of heat enveloped my sex, and my nipples perked up at the thought that, for the first time in my life, I was sexually desirable. But then I rationalised that it was not just free sex but tasty forbidden fruit the employees were being offered. Participating in the downfall of a powerful woman. I felt a growing anger about how I would get any work done.

Their inflexibility on my open-ended availability to the C-suite and SVPs alarmed me - these were my peers in the company, and it was clear they intended to make full use of me. After I pointed out that after my indenture, they could force me to come to work but couldn't force me to achieve anything, they agreed to limit the C-suite members to two evening-long sessions each as a grudging concession.

After more toing and froing, they agreed to impose a limit of 300 visits for non-C-suite employees over six months. There were still potentially 300 people who would have seen me naked and collared. After allowing for the eighteen evenings for C-suite and SVPs, that came to more than two hours of sex per day. If all the sessions were booked by employees wanting sex, I would be well and truly fucked, literally and metaphorically.

I asked whether I could still use the corporate gym as I was used to working out every day and would have to give up my Pilates class. To my delight, they said they wanted me to stay in great shape and would make daily workouts mandatory. Exercise would give me a safety valve when I struggled with my emotions. HR would monitor my employee badge to ensure I got at least one hour of exercise daily.

Finally, with a sense of impending dread, I had to tell them I would be absent for the first week to go to a sexual skills course at a slave camp. The whole room perked up at that, and based on the gleam in the CEO's eyes, I knew he would be first in line to take advantage of my fallen status. The VP of HR tried to assure me that the company would do everything possible to protect my career, but I'd seen the hungry look in the eyes of several Executive staff and knew I would be on the receiving end of their blatant lust.

It was clear that the C-suite's ability to think rationally about my value to the company and the extent to which their financial success had depended on my innovations had been blown out of the water by the emotional haze of sheer lust. I guessed some of them had previously fantasised about seeing me naked and sexually submissive. I still had the vain hope that, as time went by, they would realise they were jeopardising the company's future by not protecting me and would change the rules before it was too late.

My utter humiliation and professional destruction were then broadcast in a company-wide email.

Fellow Employees,

We regret to inform you that our CTO, Ms Cartwright, has settled a civil dispute with the SEC without admitting guilt. As a result of the civil settlement, she will sign a voluntary indenture and become animate corporate property for six months.

After a one-week leave of absence, she will continue her important work for the firm as an Extraordinary Talent slave. As an ET slave, she will be clothed normally and not wear a collar per the Federal Uniform Slave Code. She will live in the penthouse suite and may not leave the building without C-suite-level permission.

However, while clothed during the day, she will be a collared, naked pleasure slut known as 9608 in the evenings. 9608 will be available Monday to Saturday from 7 pm to 10 pm and Saturday afternoon from 2 pm to 5 pm. An online calendar will be created to book 45-minute single-person sessions each hour for sexual service. Employees must give 9608 the final 15 minutes after the session to freshen up between appointments.

The company has imposed a limit of 300 sessions for employees below Senior Vice President (M8), and employees are limited to booking her twice in that time. C-suite and SVPs may book her for the entire three hours and sign her out of the building for the evening twice in that time.

Since we have not previously owned animate property, we don't yet have rules on using them: explicit rules for use will be distributed during her week of absence. These rules will be strictly enforced, and 9608 will be required to report all sexual interactions to HR to discourage abusive behaviour.

Before being authorised to book 9608, employees must watch a training video on animate corporate property, pass an online compliance test, agree that they will not photograph or video her naked, and adhere to the rules governing the use of animate property. This protects Ms Cartwright's ability to return to being an employee after manumission. If employees prove they can adhere to the rules, the company will consider purchasing a full-time pleasure slut based in the gym after her indenture ends.

A Slack channel will be created to leave candid reviews of appointments; access will be restricted to employees who have signed the agreement. The channel will be monitored by HR and be archived on the last day of her indenture.

Ms Cartwright has agreed that after her indenture, she will not retaliate against employees who used her as the pleasure slut, 9608. The company also assures that using 9608 will not adversely affect employees' careers.

After manumission, employees will be banned from mentioning Ms Cartwright's service as 9608. Once she has been punished, it will be over, and she shall be given the same respect as she had before this sad event.

Yours sincerely,

HR

After the email went out, I hunkered down in my office, terrified of my colleagues' reactions to me becoming 'animate corporate property' and, worse, a 'pleasure slut'. Then the emails started coming. Dozens of employees commiserated with me and told me this wouldn't affect their respect for me as CTO, and they wouldn't take advantage of me during my indenture. That was heart-warming.

***

Jackson Phillips, Director of Sales, North America:

I stared, puzzled, at my calendar telling me I had a mandatory Sexual Harassment training session at 5 pm in John Ashburnham's office; he was our VP of North American Sales. Had yet another person complained to HR about me? I wouldn't be surprised, as I was known as a player who viewed young female interns as fair game. At 5 pm, I headed to his office in trepidation. In addition to John, four other people were waiting when I got there, one of whom was female, so this meeting, whatever it was, was unlikely to be about a sexual harassment complaint.

"Close the door, Jackson."

"Derek, what's this about? Has someone complained?"

He laughed, "No, that's a joke at HR's expense. This meeting is for the people I trust to discuss the fact that for six months, our uptight CTO will be a slave, and we will have carte-blanche to sexually harass her. I'm tired of her having lost sales or enabled customers to get a better discount by being honest about shortcomings in our products. We should be giving customers a good story, not facts!"

"The question is, how do we best exploit this opportunity? I, for one, can't wait to see her expression when I order her to rim me, and then I'll pound that tight little ass of hers into oblivion. After that, she can lick my dick clean, and she better look up at me adoringly while she does it, or there'll be trouble."

"Boss, I agree we should work together on this, but we are limited to two sessions each in six months, and they are solo slots, so no double teaming her. How much can we realistically do in 40 minutes each time?"

My boss smirked, "Coming up with a list of humiliating things is one of the reasons for this meeting. I want to coordinate booking all three slots for one night. That way, we can merge it into one long appointment and have three people to make our fallen angel airtight; that will be a boatload of fun." He laughed, "Well, for us, at any rate."

"I want to make sure that her time with the sales team is truly memorable, so she'll blush whenever she sees us in the corridor or in a meeting."

The only woman present, Allison Cripps, interjected, "Boss, she's the one who innovated our most profitable products. Without her, the pipeline of highly profitable new products would soon run dry. We can't afford to lose her, can we?"

"Oh, I'm sure they gave her golden handcuffs to keep her here afterwards. We shouldn't let that stop us from having fun with her, right?" John looked around the room for confirmation from the tech bros, and we all nodded - none of us wanted to be cut out from the boss's inner circle.

***

Elizabeth:

The next day there was a knock on my door: it was Steve, one of the leaders of the company's LGBT group. I was puzzled as I knew he wouldn't be interested in using me, and I rarely had cause to interact with him for work.

"May I come in and shut the door?"

I beckoned him.

"Beth, I am so sorry. This sentence seems shockingly harsh for a civil offence. I talked to David, my husband, last night, and he suggested I reach out to you to offer help before your indenture."

"In what way?" I asked, terribly puzzled.

"Well, this is awkward. I heard some colleagues saying how much they looked forward to pounding your ass. Naturally, David asked if you had any experience with anal and whether you knew how to give yourself an enema? You must have been slave-graded for college since the email included the last 4 of your SIN. If you got anal from a wrangler at that time, that's great. Otherwise, he suggested we spend some time with you and give you a gentle introduction." He laughed, "After all, as gay men, we are experts on the subject."

I looked at him, stunned. My slave grading felt like a lifetime ago, almost as if it had happened to another person, not me. It had never occurred to me that I would be subjected to anal sex during my indenture; it was something I'd never permitted boyfriends to do because that was something only slave girls did. I face-palmed myself for not thinking what it meant to be a slave and that I'd have to do everything that slave girls were expected to do.

"You hadn't thought of that, had you?" He said kindly, "All the perverted things slave girls are forced to do that free women won't do. You'll be shaved, have all three holes pounded relentlessly without concern for your feelings or enjoyment, and be expected to have sex with women. I'm guessing that last thing is something you've never done either?"

I shook my head and buried my face in my palms, quietly dying of embarrassment at such a frank conversation and my miserable confession.

"If you like," he continued in the same compassionate tone, "I can reach out to a couple of the lesbians here and see if any of them would teach you what you need to know about going down on a woman."

I looked at him shamefully, tears steeping my eyes while thinking how my period of slavery would be even more humiliating than I first thought.

"Thanks, Steve, you are right. If I am properly prepared, it will be less traumatic in the long run. But you are both gay. Will you be able to get aroused with a woman?"

"David is Bi and has had girlfriends in the past. They were all free women who didn't do anal, so not only will he have no trouble getting aroused with an attractive woman like you, but he'll be thrilled to tick 'anal with a free woman' off his to-do list. I've also brought a training butt plug and some lube for you to stretch yourself before coming around. It might be best to wear the plug while driving to our house."

I was acutely embarrassed looking at the butt plug - things just got very real.

"Steve, I have a favour to ask."

"Anything."

"Please could you encourage people who are friendly to book me, bring take-out on Saturdays and keep me company while we eat? I don't fancy living on slave chow every weekend."

"Beth, I can do better than that; I'm sure I can find enough people who respect you to cover every Saturday with one hot meal. I assume Eamon will let you use the microwave to reheat food. Have you considered getting take-out from the cafeteria on Fridays as well? If he lets you use the fridge, most food should last until Sunday, and you won't have to eat slave chow."

"You're right; I can do that. I don't know why I am having trouble thinking clearly about this slow-motion trainwreck; probably just stress."

***

Civil Penalty, Part 2.

On the day of my 'Introduction to Anal 101,' Steve dropped by my office to check on me.

"Beth, how are you doing? Are we all set for tonight?"

"I'm really nervous, but I appreciate your husband's willingness to help me prepare for this ordeal."

"On that topic, your college slave grading must have been nearly two decades ago. He asked if you've played slave-girl in the bedroom more recently?"

I grimaced at his rudely accurate estimation of my age, "Steve, no, I'm not a slave; I'd never let a man collar me!"

Steve raised his eyebrows at me.

"Oh fuck, that's exactly what I'm going to be in ten days, isn't it? Fuck, fuck, fuck."

"You're a proud feminist," Steve responded. "David worries that when you go for slave processing, you'll be mouthy and rebellious and get whipped or worse. He thinks we should treat you as a slave from the moment you arrive so you can get used to what it feels like in a safe environment where you won't be punished harshly."

I groaned, "I don't want to do it, but he's right; I'm likely to see myself as superior to the wranglers and do something that gets me punished. OK, I agree."

***

At 7 pm, I knocked on their door in Arlington, with the butt plug uncomfortably wedged in my derrière. Steve's husband, David, opened it. Instead of a greeting, he said, "9608, slaves don't wear clothes. Strip and fold your clothes neatly on the chair in the hall and remove all your jewellery except piercings."

I felt a pang of anger and shame: I would be a non-person during my indenture. I had no piercings and blushed furiously as I stripped. David's dominance showed that he was probably the top in their marriage. I wasn't looking forward to colleagues treating me the same way.

"Collar!"

I knelt while he attached a training collar around my neck and padlocked it shut. I was now a slave until I earned my release by learning whatever lessons he wanted to teach me tonight. I wondered why they even owned a collar - maybe he used it on Steve? But I wasn't sure I could ask him.

"Backhands!"

I'd done that when I was slave-graded for college as an 18-year-old, but I wasn't prepared for David to make things so realistic tonight.

"Is that really necessary, David?"

I was stunned when he smacked my backside hard, and I started to mouth off to him. Damn, he'd just proved his point on why I needed this tonight. I sighed and crossed my wrists behind my back; he zip-tied them together.

"9608, you will refer to my husband and me as Master. Any disobedience by a slave must be punished; you have been warned. I'm not above tanning your cute little butt to a rosy shade of pink," he smirked.

David attached a leash to my collar and led me into the dining room, where Steve was serving bowls of food on a table set for two. Steve hugged me and kissed my cheek. "You look lovely, Beth. You truly are beautiful naked. Thank you for sharing your body with us tonight."

I felt caught between good cop and bad cop with the two of them, "Thank you, Master."

"Good girl," Steve said and mussed my hair like I was a young child. I stood there with the leash from my collar dangling between my breasts as he went back to the kitchen and returned with three plates and a dog bowl. I was puzzled by what he was doing. He served petit filet mignon with a creamy green peppercorn sauce, sautéed baby bellas, and asparagus onto the three plates. He then poured a 2010 Lalande-de-Pomerol into three Waterford crystal wine glasses.

He grinned at me and cut the food on the third plate into bite-sized pieces. I knew then exactly where this was going and looked at the dog bowl in growing horror at being treated like an animal. He saw my expression and grimaced.

"Beth, during your indenture, you will no longer be classed as a citizen protected by the constitution. You'll legally be a large domestic animal. You need to start making that attitude adjustment. Don't worry; it is a new dog bowl; you're not using a bowl a dog has slobbered on. Let me remove the zip tie from your wrists so you can kneel at the end of the table between David and myself."

I still couldn't get my head around just how sharply I would fall in status when the indenture started: I'd legally cease to be human, become a dumb animal, become property owned by my employer, become a sex toy for any free citizen in the evenings, lose my freedom to go shopping or to a restaurant, and lose access to my money and home. I got lost in a rabbit warren of self-recrimination over accepting this stupid civil penalty rather than going to prison, but it was too late to back out.

"Beth!" Steve brought me back to reality. He picked up a sautéed mushroom, "Would you like a treat, little puppy? Open wide for daddy," and popped it into my mouth; he then mussed my hair with the butter-covered fingers he'd used to pick up the mushroom. I bit my tongue hard; this was even more humiliating than I had imagined.

He placed my dog bowl on the floor and the wine beside it. A dog bowl and Waterford crystal - the dissonance could not be more jarring. I knelt obediently and was glad they hadn't given me slave kibble like I'd get during my in-processing as a slave. It would have been hard to eat kibble while watching them eat steak.

I envisaged some unkind soul coming to use me on a Saturday, bringing take-out from a good restaurant or wine for himself and savouring it while leaving me envious. I was sure it would happen; I had to prepare for that eventuality. Let them smirk at me while I knelt watching. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of reacting to it.

Eating from a dog bowl took some getting used to, but I eventually finished my food while the two guys watched and snickered as my chin and cheeks got coated in the creamy sauce. I knew I looked like a messy toddler by the end. I realised from Steve's expression that he had deliberately made a thick sauce and coated the cut-up food as part of my humiliation.

"It looks like you just had a bukkake session with all that white cream on your face," David laughed as sanguineous heat flared in my cheeks. Steve beckoned me to stand and licked the cream off one of my cheeks, "Nope, definitely not jism, David, but if you want to coat her face later, I'll lick it clean."

Steve went to the kitchen and returned with a damp washcloth for me to wipe the rest of my face.

As soon as dinner was cleared away, Steve said, "OK, first, you need to learn how to give yourself an enema. We bought you a CVS home enema kit to take to the penthouse, but you should buy an enema shower attachment and enough lube for six months and practice using the shower attachment. You don't need to add salt to the shower attachment for occasional use. However, daily enemas are bad for you unless you add a product like DailyAssCleanze from ZeePharma. A 2lb pack should last six months when used once per day. The shower attachment will be much quicker after a long day in the office. Let's use the upstairs bathroom."